


Sherlock Is Bored But Not For Long

by LadyGlinda



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sherlock is a Brat, Sherlock is a Sex God, Sherlock is a Tease, Sibling Incest, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 18:19:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14526414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGlinda/pseuds/LadyGlinda
Summary: Mycroft has some work to do. Sherlock is bored. And horny. Things take the expected turn. Pure porn.





	Sherlock Is Bored But Not For Long

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scarletmanuka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletmanuka/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



Mycroft sighed in deep satisfaction. At home at a decent time. Six o'clock. Really not bad. Some work to do but nothing too tedious. Working out the complicated relationships of the new leader in North Korea and Russia. Then call the PM for God's sake. Explain it to the imbecile. Read some reports, then…

“Mycie, I'm bored!”

Mycroft dropped his cup at the unexpected rumble right behind him. He hastily took care of the mess before it could reach his tablet. “Sherlock, what… I thought you had an exciting case?”

A rather wet kiss was pressed onto his neck. “Nah. Solved it in five minutes, no other clients waiting so I came here at once. Sneaked on you. You're slipping. Surely you're finished with this boring crap, aren’t you? Eager to provide some nice distraction for your suffering little brother?”

The handsome face appeared right before Mycroft's, eyes sparkling, lips in a pout. Playful, so far…

“Sherlock, really, I'd love to, but I've got to work. Won't take me too long, I promise.”

“Bullshit! I know how this goes – brooding over it for hours, call someone, yell at him, then more boring things to read. I need you now!” Sherlock fumbled with his tie.

“Patience is a virtue you've always neglected,” Mycroft said and gently shoved his hands aside. “I really need to read this now, love.”

Sherlock snorted. “Spoilsport.” With this he stalked out of the room and Mycroft sighed.

Hopefully this wouldn’t lead to an epic sulking… He would read faster, call his bloody boss and then make it up to his brother. It wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ to get tactile.

He hadn't read more than two paragraphs when Sherlock was back. Without a word he dropped to his knees, shuffled under Mycroft's desk and opened the zipper of his slim fit black trousers.

“What do you think you are… Oh, God!” He should be used to it, damn. But fuck it felt so good…

Sherlock let the crown of his dick plop out of his mouth and expertly pumped the suddenly plump dick with his right hand. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“You are… incorrigible…” It was hard to sound exasperated when such nice things were done to you…

“Ah, so nothing new. Excuse me…” Sherlock bent over and swallowed his already leaking and rapidly growing cock to the root.

“Oh, Sherlock!”

Sherlock grinned around his favourite toy and patted his thigh soothingly. Then he let the swollen member slide out of his mouth again. “Just go on doing what you have to do. I'm occupied now. Not bored anymore. Just forget I'm here.”

“Very fu….oh… nny…”

Sherlock, who had just licked a very wet stripe over the exposed glans, winked and went back to work seriously.

Mycroft tried to do the same, mostly for not giving his brat of a brother the satisfaction of the victory, but he cursed when Sherlock's tongue slid under his foreskin and whirled around.

“How should I… Oh, damn…” The tip of his brother’s tongue had found his slit and was licking it out amazingly roughly. Mycroft's hands finally moved away from his computer to be buried in those thick, black curls.

And then his bloody phone rang…

“Ignore it,” Sherlock said nonchalantly, his mouth swollen and wet, and then he went on working Mycroft's dick over.

“God, I can't! He knows my phone is never off.”

Sherlock mumbled something incomprehensible and sucked even harder.

Mycroft's head was spinning and his damn phone was still ringing. He knew didn’t have a choice but to take the call. “Good evening, sir, I… Oh… Can I call you back? I don't have all the infor… formation yet.”

_“Are you drunk, Holmes?!”_

“No, I'm… I've just not finished reading.” He grabbed Sherlock's nose to force him to let him go but his brother just giggled and let his teeth threateningly close around his dick and he didn’t dare push him away. He didn’t think Sherlock would bite off his pleasure-giver but he wasn’t a hundred percent sure that he wouldn’t nastily scratch it up to make a point.

 _“Doesn't matter, give me what you have,”_ the older man demanded impatiently, unaware of the pun he was providing.

And so Mycroft had the most disturbing and embarrassing phone conversation of his life. He was hastily reading while he was talking and at the same time his body was constantly shivering, bucking up and tingling from the murderous things his lover/ brother was doing to him. Sherlock sucked and licked and lapped mercilessly, bringing him to the edge of orgasm more than once but always let him go in the last second to bite into his thighs or achingly pull at his balls that his deft fingers had fumbled out of their confinements in the meantime.

Finally the PM was satisfied with his explanations and let him go, and at the moment he put his phone away Sherlock elegantly came up from under his desk and proceeded to leave.

“Where do you think you're going!” Mycroft yelled. His balls were hurting from being completely full.

“Need a drink. Want some?”

“Now?! You come back and finish what you've started!”

“In a while.”

“Sherlock!”

“Come and get me!” Sherlock opened the first button of his shirt.

Mycroft couldn’t help but grinning. “You are such a…”

“I know, heard it all before.” With this Sherlock was gone and Mycroft closed the file and shut down his tablet. And then he went searching for his unbearable, irresistible brat of a baby brother. Even though _searching_ was probably not the right word as he was pretty sure where to find him.

*****

Sherlock got rid of his clothing on the way to Mycroft's posh bedroom piece by piece and left a (rather unnecessary but in his opinion funny) trace so his brother could find him. Here a shirt, there a sock, his trousers spread out on the thick carpet of the corridor invitingly, his shorts draped over a lamp.

Sucking his brother while he was talking to his oh-so-important boss had been on Sherlock's secret list of sexual experiences for a rather long time and Mycroft's almost painful wiggling and of course his arousing taste had left Sherlock hard as a rock and ready to go at it.

The lube was already strategically placed on the nightstand and Sherlock had just squeezed a generous amount into his hand when Mycroft stumbled into the room, looking deliciously deranged. His trouser button was still open, his hair was a mess because he had ruffled it in despair, and there was some nice sweat on his forehead. “You!” he exclaimed.

Sherlock got onto his knees on the edge of the bed, facing his brother, and rubbed the lube into his cute little hole. “Me? What about me?”

“You're so fucked!”

“Oh, soon I hope!” He grinned at his big brother, knowing he had won. Mycroft would have certainly liked to let _him_ wait again now but he wasn’t in the condition to do it. Of course he could have taken matters into his own hand but Sherlock was pretty sure the view – he, naked on the bed, rubbing sticky fluid into his arse for Mycroft to watch – was a sight his heated brother couldn’t resist.

He was right. Mycroft hectically fumbled with his own clothing, struggling with taking off these stupidly sexy sleeve garters and finally impatiently ripping them off, then opening the too-many buttons of his fancy shirt with unsteady fingers and then slipping out of the silky fabric to uncharacteristically throwing it onto the ground, followed by his trousers, pants and socks in an untypical demeanour of impatience and lack of control.

Sherlock knew only he was able to make his brother act like this – no _Iceman_ here, thank you very much.

He had worked himself open at the time Mycroft stalked around the bed to line himself up behind him, one foot on the floor, one on the bed, and Sherlock groaned and winced when his wide, wet knob pushed inside without further hesitation.

Mycroft stilled at once. “Are you alright?” he asked, all concern and affection, his hands sliding over Sherlock's bum.

Sherlock looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Yes, my brave politician. Show me how angry you are.”

He groaned again when he was further filled up.

Mycroft grabbed his hips to stabilize himself. “You are really a menace, little brother, making me stutter like a fool, talking to my boss.”

“You didn’t have to take the call. You could have let me finish you off and then call back to say you've been on the loo. Even little icemen have to relieve themselves sometimes…”

“Would you have done it then? Letting me come?” Mycroft asked while starting to thrust in earnest.

It felt so good that Sherlock could witness his eyes roll by themselves. Mycroft knew how to hit the right spot. “Of course,” he brought out. “If you hadn't tried to get rid of me, and what sort of a bad man does that, I would have sucked you to completion in no time.”

“So it's my fault, yes?” Mycroft brought out between grunts, and Sherlock could feel sweat drop onto his back and he didn’t have to turn around to know that Mycroft's dark hair was wet now.

“Always your fault… Shouldn't let your poor little brother suffer from boredom and deny him taking care of you.”

“If I let you, you'd suck me all day and night or crawl onto my lap to impale yourself on my dick!”

“But that's because your dick is so pretty, brother mine! It's huge and tasty and so nicely wet when it’s in me, whether in my mouth or my arse.”

Mycroft breathed faster now; Sherlock knew how much his brother enjoyed hearing him talk dirty.

“And now you're finally doing it, fucking my arse, and isn't it a nice arse? Round and firm and smooth and just made for your giant dick to slide in and out and filling me up so well and then shooting your hot, sticky seed inside it, making me all full and dribbling…”

And then Mycroft came with a cry that was certainly audible two streets away and he did exactly that – creaming Sherlock's insides to the hilt, and the feeling of his hot release gushing into him pushed Sherlock over the edge as well, and he emptied his balls all over the bed and then collapsed right into the mess when Mycroft pulled out and let him go, not able to be on his feet any longer.

He joined Sherlock on the soiled bed and pulled him close, and Sherlock snuggled his head under his chin.

The detective felt calm and comfy and just right in his brother's arms – the place where he belonged. He couldn’t endure lying around doing nothing if he was on his own, but here in his man's embrace it was all bliss and peace; his brain had stopped running amok and he could have been like this forever. He put his right leg over Mycroft's left thigh in an attempt at getting even closer. Sticky wetness was everywhere under him and dribbling out of him and it felt so naughtily great.

“I love you,” he mumbled against Mycroft's throat and smiled when he was hugged even tighter.

“I love you, too, little brother. Even though one day you'll be my doom.”

“Mmm. But it will be a nice, sexy, hot doom.”

“That it will be. Want to go out later?”

From time to time they dared have dinner in a fancy restaurant, all dressed up properly and behaving stiffly around each other – not in the good way. Their relationship, having begun a week after Sherrinford, was a secret to all they knew and to all they didn’t know. And that's how it would have to remain forever as both of them knew very well. Sherlock didn’t mind and he was sure neither did Mycroft. What they had had come so unexpectedly and was so precious that he wouldn’t have wanted it to share it with anybody.

And Sherlock didn’t want to be around other people that evening. Or at all actually if he could avoid it. “Nah. You'll cook.”

“Oh will I?”

“Yes. I'll keep you company and give you some fine advice.”

“Sounds good to me. What do you think – will you be able to fuck me later?”

Sherlock purred. “Is Mrs Hudson a catholic?”

“I have no idea!”

Sherlock giggled. “You're funny. Yes, brother dear – I'll allow you to give up your arse for me later. But only if I may lick you before.”

Mycroft kissed his forehead. “That's a tough one. But yes, I guess I'll generously let you.”

Sherlock licked the soft skin under his ear as a little foretaste. “Love you.”

“Love you more.”

“No. Y'can't.”

“But I do.”

“Even though I'm a pain in the arse?”

“But you are _my_ pain in _my_ arse, Sherlock. And most of the time it's more pleasure than pain.”

“I should hope so. Nap?”

“You know we'll be glued to the sheets if we don't get up now?”

“Doesn't matter. Then you can never go to work again.”

“And what about your clients then?”

“They can come here and talk to me while I'm lying here. The PM can come, too, if he must bother you.”

“Good plan.”

“Thanks. You know sometimes _I_ am the smart one.”

Sherlock could feel his eyelids getting heavier. He would sleep a while and then they would have dinner and then he would fuck his brother.

Life was beautiful.

The End


End file.
